"Miss Lou" Part 47

"Has you been hangin' roun' nights, Chunk?" Zany asked solemnly.

"How you talks, Zany! Does you s'pects I dar stay roun' whar Perkins am? He kill me. He done gone way to-night."

"How you know dat?"

"One de fiel'-hans tole me."

"Chunk, ef you up ter s.h.i.+nes en doan tole me I done wid you. Hasn't I hep you out'n in eberyting so fur? Ef I fin' out you been skeerin me so wid eny doin's I des done wid you. I des feel hit in my bones you de spook. You kyant bamboozle me. I kin hep you--hab done hit afo'--en I kin hinder you, so be keerful. Dere's some dif'unce in bein' a spook yosef en bein' skeered ter death by a rale spook. Ef you tryin' ter skeer en fool me I be wuss on you ner eny Voodoo woman dat eber kunjurd folks."

The interview ended in Chunk's making a clean breast of it and in securing Zany as an ally with mental reservations. The thought that he had fooled her rankled.

Mr. Baron's expostulation and his own pressing interests induced Perkins to remain at home the following night. As Jute had seemed forgiving and friendly, the overseer asked him to bring two others and stay with him, offering some of the contents of the replenished jug as a reward. They sat respectfully near the door while Perkins threw himself on his bed with the intention of getting to sleep as soon as possible. "Are you sh.o.r.e ther wuz no 'sturbances last night?" he asked.

"Well, Ma.r.s.e Perkins," replied Jute, "you didn't s'pect we out lookin'.

We wuz po'ful sleepy en roll we haids en er blankets en den 'fo' we knowed, hit sun-up. Folks say en de quarters dat ar spook ain' arter us."

"Who the devil is. .h.i.t arter then?" was the angry response.

"How we know, mars'r? We neber try ter kill enybody."

"But I tell you I didn't kill him," expostulated their nervous victim.

"Didn't name no names, Ma.r.s.e Perkins. I on'y knows w'at I yeared folks tell 'bout spooks. Dey's mighty cur'us, spooks is. Dey des 'pear to git a spite agin some folks en dey ain' bodderin oder folks long ez dey ain' 'feered wid. I 'spect a spook dat wuz 'feered wid, get he dander up en slam roun' permiscus. I des tek a ole bull by de horns 'fo' I 'fere wid a spook," and Jute's companions grunted a.s.sent.

"W'at's the good o' yer bein' yere then?" Perkins asked, taking a deep draught.

"Well, now, Ma.r.s.e Perkins, you mus'n be onreasonbul. Wat cud we do? We des riskin' de wool on we haids stayin' yere fer comp'ny. Ef de spook come, 'spose he tink we no business yere en des lay we out lak he kunjer yo' dawg? We des tank you, Ma.r.s.e Perkins, fer anoder lil drap ter kep we sperets out'n we shoon," and Jute shuddered portentously.

"Well," said Perkins, with attempted bravado, "I rammed a piece o'

silver down on the bullat in my gun. 'Twix 'em both--"

"Dar now, Ma.r.s.e Perkins, you des been 'posed on 'bout dat silber business. Ole Unc' Sampson w'at libed on de Simcoe place nigh on er hun'erd yeahs, dey say, tole me lots 'bout a spook dat boddered um w'en he a boy. Way back ole Ma.r.s.e Simcoe shot at de man dat hanker fer he darter. De man put out en get drownded, but dat doan make no dif'rence, Unc' Sampson say, kaze ole Ma.r.s.e Simcoe do he bes' ter kill der man. He sorter hab kill in he heart en Unc' Sampson low a spook know w'at gwine on in er man's in'erds, en dey des goes fer de man dat wanter kill um on de sly, en not dose dat kill in fa'r fight. Ole Unc' Sampson po'ful on spooks. He libed so long he get ter be sorter spook hesef, en dey say he talk ter um haf de time 'fo' he kiner des snuf out'n lak a can'l."

"He wuz a silly old fool," growled Perkins, with a perceptible tremor in his voice.

"Spect he wuz 'bout some tings," resumed Jute, "but know spooks, he sut'ny did. He say ole Ma.r.s.e Simcoe useter plug lead en silver right froo dat man dat want he darter, en dar was de hole en de light s.h.i.+n'in' froo hit. But de spook ain' min'in' a lil ting lak dat, he des come on all de same snoopin' roun' arter de ole man's darter. Den one mawnin' de ole man lay stiff en daid in he baid, he eyes starin' open ez ef he see sump'n he cudn't stan' no how. Dat wuz de las' ob dat ar spook, Unc' Sampson say, en he say spook's cur'us dat away. Wen dey sats'fy dere grudge dey lets up en dey doan foller de man dey down on kaze dey on'y po'r in de place whar de man 'lowed ter kill um."

Perkins took a mental note of this very important limitation of ghostly persecution, and resolved that if he had any more trouble all the crops in the State would not keep him within the haunted limit.

He whiled away the time by aid of his jug and Job-like comforters till it began to grow late and he drowsy.

Suddenly Jute exclaimed, "Hi! Ma.r.s.e Perkins, w'at dat light dancin' up yon'er by de grabeyard?"

The overseer rose with a start, his hair rising also as he saw a fitful jack-o'-lantern gleam, appearing and disappearing on the cemetery hill.

As had been expected, he obeyed his impulse, pouring down whiskey until he speedily rendered himself utterly helpless; but while his intoxication disabled him physically, it produced for a time an excited and disordered condition of mind in which he was easily imposed upon.

Jute shook him and adjured him to get up, saying, "I years quar soun's comin' dis way."

When satisfied that their victim could make no resistance, Jute and companions pretended to start away in terror. Perkins tried to implore them to remain, but his lips seemed paralyzed. A few moments later a strange group entered the cottage--five figures dressed in Federal uniforms, hands and faces white and ghastly, and two carrying white cavalry sabres. Each one had its finger on its lips, but Perkins was beyond speech. In unspeakable horror he stared vacantly before him and remained silent and motionless. The ghostly shapes looked at him fixedly for a brief time, then at one another, and solemnly nodded.

Next, four took him up and bore him out, the fifth following with the jug. At the door stood an immovably tall form, surmounted by a cavalry hat and wrapped in a long army overcoat.

"Leftenant Scoville!" gasped Perkins.

The figure, as if the joints of its back were near the ground, made a portentous inclination of a.s.sent and then pointed with another white sabre to the hill, leading the way. Perkins tried to shout for help, but his tongue seemed powerless, as in fact it was, from terror and liquor combined. He felt himself carried swiftly and, as he thought, surely, to some terrible doom.

At last his bearers stopped, and Perkins saw the mounds of the Union dead rising near. He now remembered in a confused way that one more grave had been dug than had proved necessary, and he uttered a low howl as he felt himself lowered into it. Instantly the tall figure which appeared to direct everything threatened him with a ghostly sabre, and an utter paralysis of unspeakable dread fell upon him.

For a few moments they all stood around and pointed at him with ghostly white fingers, then gradually receded until out of sight. After a time Perkins began to get his voice, when suddenly his tormentors appeared in terrible guise. Each white, ghostly face was lighted up as by a tongue of fire; terrible eyes gleamed from under wide-crowned cavalry hats and a voice was heard, in a sepulchral whisper, "Nex' time we come fer you, we bury you!"

At this instant came a flash of lightning, followed by a tremendous clap of thunder. The jaws of the figures dropped, the burning splinters of light-wood they carried dropping down into the grave, and on its half-lifeless occupant. The ghosts now disappeared finally--in fact took to their heels; all except Chunk, who secured the jug, nodded thrice portentously at Perkins and then retired also, not a little shaken in his nerves, but sufficiently self-controlled to rally his panic-stricken followers and get them to remove their disguises before wrapping their heads in blankets. Having removed and hidden all traces of the escapade he hooted for the alert Zany, who had been tremblingly on the watch in spite of her knowledge of what was going on. As she fled with Chunk before the coming storm she gasped between the gusts, "I declar, Chunk, sech doin's gwine ter brung a judgment."

Even Chunk inclined to this view for a time, as the lightning blazed from sky to earth, and the thunder cracked and roared overhead. The rain poured in such torrents that he feared Perkins might be drowned in the grave where he had been placed. As for Aun' Jinkey, she stared at her unexpected visitors in speechless perplexity and terror until the fury of the tempest had pa.s.sed, their voices could be heard.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI

UNCLE l.u.s.tHAH EXHORTS

The heavy thunder shower which came and pa.s.sed quickly, combined with a consciousness of their high-handed performances, so awed Chunk and Zany and oppressed them with misgivings that they were extremely reticent, even to Aun' Jinkey. Chunk appeared profoundly ignorant of the ghostly disturbances, trying to say unconcernedly, "I foun' hit a orful long en skeery trable ter de Un'on lines en I says ter mysef, 'De Yanks fin' me down yere quicker ner I fin' dem up Norf. Dey be comin' dis away agin sho'."

"I des tells you we all git whip nigh ter daith ef you ain' mo'

keerful," said Aun' Jinkey, solemnly. "I kyant stan' de goin's on. I gwine ter pieces ev'y day en nights git'n wusser'n de days. De gust ober en you bettah light out. Ef Zany missed dey come yere lookin' fer her."

They needed no urging to depart, for Zany was now as scared as Chunk had ever wished her to be, but her terrors were taking a form which inclined her to cling to the old landmarks rather than risk she knew not what, in running away. As she and Chunk were stealing toward the kitchen a flash of lightning from the retiring storm revealed a startling figure--that of Perkins, drenched and bedraggled, his eyes almost starting from their sockets as he staggered toward his cottage.

Chunk's courage at last gave way; he turned and fled, leaving Zany in the lurch. Frightened almost to the point of hysterics, she crept to her bed and shook till morning, resolving meanwhile to have done with Chunk and all his doings. The next day Mrs. Baron found her the most diligent and faithful of servants.

Perkins reached his door and looked into the dark entrance, the gusts having blown out the light. He shook his head, muttered something unintelligible, and then bent his uncertain steps to the tavern. The next morning Mr. Baron suspected where he was and went to see him. The overseer was found to be a pitiable spectacle, haggard trembling, nervous in the extreme, yet sullen and reticent and resolute in his purpose never to set foot on the plantation again. Mr. Baron then closed all business relations and sent over the man's belongings.

Perkins became a perplexing problem to Mr. Baron and his household and a terrible tradition to the negroes, who regarded him as a haunted man.

Every day and night pa.s.sed in quietness after his departure enabled them to breathe more freely and to become more a.s.sured that he "wuz de on'y one de spooks arter."

Chunk felt that he had disgraced himself by running away and leaving Zany, and did not venture back till the second night after the culmination of his schemes. He found Jute and his a.s.sociates scared, sullen and inclined to have little to do with him in their present mood. Then he hooted in vain for Zany. The girl heard him but made no sign, muttering, "Sence you runned away en lef me I'se done wid runnin'

away. You tootin' lak a squinch-owl en kin kep comp'ny wid squinch-owls."

Only Aun' Jinkey gave him food and a sort of fearful welcome, and poor Chunk found himself at last a very unhappy and skulking outlaw.

Mr. Baron gradually rallied under his increased responsibilities and resolved to be his own overseer. Although an exacting master, the negroes knew he was not a severe one if they did their work fairly well. The spook scare had given Uncle l.u.s.thah renewed influence and he used it in behalf of peace and order. "Our fren Miss Lou, sick," he urged. "We mek her trouble en we mek oursefs trouble ef we doan go on peac'ble. What kin we do eny way at dis yer time? De Norf fightin' fer us en hit all 'pen' on de Norf. We mus' kep a gwine ez we is till de times en seasons ob de Lawd is 'vealed."

And so for a period, quiet again settled down on the old plantation.

Mrs. Whately and Aun' Jinkey nursed Miss Lou into a slow, languid convalescence, till at last she was able to sit in an easy-chair on the piazza. This she would do by the hour, with a sad, apathetic look on her thin face. She was greatly changed, her old rounded outlines had shrunken and she looked frail enough for the winds to blow away. The old, fearless, spirited look in her blue eyes had departed utterly, leaving only an expression of settled sadness, varied by an anxious, expectant gaze, suggesting a lingering hope that some one might come or something happen to break the dreadful silence which began, she felt, when Scoville fell from his horse in the darkening forest. It remained unbroken, and her heart sank into more hopeless despondency daily. Aun'

Jinkey and Zany were charged so sternly to say nothing to disturb the mind of their young mistress that they obeyed. She was merely given the impression that Perkins had gone away of his own will, and this was a relief. She supposed Chunk had returned to his Union friends, and this also became the generally accepted view of all except Aun' Jinkey.

Mrs. Whately came to spend part of the time at The Oaks and part on her own plantation, where her presence was needed. Her devotion would have won Miss Lou's whole heart but for the girl's ever-present consciousness of Mad Whately in the background. The mother now had the tact to say nothing about him except in a natural and general way, occasionally trying the experiment of reading extracts from his brief letters, made up, as they were, chiefly of ardent messages to his cousin. These Miss Lou received in silence and unfeigned apathy.

The respite and quiet could not last very long in these culminating months of the war. Without much warning even to the negroes, who appeared to have a sort of telegraphic communication throughout the region, a Union column forced its way down the distant railroad and made it a temporary line of communication. Mr. Baron suddenly woke up to the fact that the nearest town was occupied by the Federals and that his human property was in a ferment. A foraging party soon appeared in the neighborhood and even visited him, but his statement of what he had suffered and the evident impoverishment of the place led the Union officer to seek more inviting fields.

Partly to satisfy her own mind as well as that of her niece, Mrs.

Whately asked after Scoville, but could obtain no information. The troops in the vicinity were of a different organization, the leader of the party a curt, grizzled veteran, bent only on obtaining supplies.